Page 122 of Beloved Sacrifice

Hand in hand, they went to the inner door, and stepped out into the dark chamber beyond.

Tristan crumpled yet another piece of paper into a useless little ball. Another dead end. He’d been roaming this bloody library for over an hour, meaning it had been more than two since he’d let them walk out.

Damn it, that had been dumb, but Weston was his friend. It didn’t matter. He shouldn’t break the rules for anyone. His loyalty should always be to the Admiralty.

But he’d given them two hours. After one, he’d headed to the library, planning to get a head start on this clue. He’d set up a satellite-enabled video camera in the room, so he’d be able to see if they came back after the allowed two hours.

They hadn’t.

“Hey, good-looking, what can I help you with? I’ve been watching you roam helpless as a little lost lamb for a good twenty minutes.”

Tristan turned to face the man who’d spoken. He was a slight older gentleman with thinning hair and wire-framed glasses. He wore a cable-knit cardigan sweater over a plain white shirt and loose-fitting brown pants. The man wasn’t even trying to hide his obvious appreciation for Tristan’s looks.

“Oh my,” the man said, circling him. “You are a well-put together man. The very image of a knight in shining armor. You do any acting? Modeling?”

Tristan shook his head and felt his face flush slightly under the man’s intense scrutiny. The old guy didn’t know how accurate he was with that knight comment.

“I, um, I’m not an actor, no.”

The man waved himself dramatically. “Gods be praised. A British accent. Barry is going to be so sorry he didn’t come back here with me after the service. He would have liked to see you.”

“Barry?” Tristan asked, trying to figure out a way to escape this man. The clock was still ticking.

“My husband. Now, tell me. What brings you to the Boston Public Library? Because given the way you’ve been roaming around here, it’s clear you’re not finding what you’re looking for. Unless of course, it’s me. And then all I have to say is bravo.”

Tristan was fairly certain the guy was joking. Maybe. Hopefully. “Do you work here?”

The man held out his hand. “I do indeed. Lee Hager, the Director of Operations here at the library. And you are?”

“Tristan,” he said, purposely leaving off his last name. “I’m looking for something. You might be able to help me.”

“You’ve come to the right person.”

Tristan figured he didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He was coming up empty on his own. As Director of Operations, there was at least a chance this Lee character would know all the ins and outs of the library. “All I have is a phrase. I’ve tried looking in the books the search suggested based on the terms, but I’ve come up empty.”

“What’s the phrase, sugar?”

“Nitimur in Vetitum. In Latin, it means—”

Lee’s smile faded in an instant, his eyes narrowing suspiciously behind his glasses. “I know what it means. Come with me, please.”

Lee escorted him to what was obviously the man’s office. He invited him to have a seat, then excused himself for a moment. Tristan saw Lee withdraw his cell phone. Maybe the phrase was some sort of password.

Tristan didn’t feel any threat from the man, so he remained seated and did what he hated most in the world.

Waited.

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